


Bad Decisions

by Cryswimmer



Series: I Look Forward to It [6]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-02
Updated: 2017-01-02
Packaged: 2018-09-14 05:39:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9164503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cryswimmer/pseuds/Cryswimmer
Summary: After losing Rory, Amy is sad... losing Vincent didn't help.  Maybe the Doctor should just take her home...





	

Bad Decisions

 

The doctor stood at the railing outside the convention center and looked out over the city. He and Amy had just come from the museum, and he had sent her shopping. She had been so sad after realizing that Vincent had not changed his path through knowing what he would become. He hoped that someday she would understand – as he did – that small victories were occasionally all one could achieve.

He had wanted to cheer her. She had been sad without knowing why when Rory had disappeared. She didn’t even get the relief that grieving provided, simply an empty feeling with no clear reason. Now she was grieving the loss of a good man. How had it all gone so very wrong? He had wanted to give her something, not take her peace away. Not for the first time, he wondered if he was any good for people at all. Sometimes it seemed that he only showed them pain.

He hadn’t known what to do, so he had offered her an unlimited credit card and sent her into the city proper with instructions to buy a new outfit. He had said he would take her somewhere – anywhere – once she was ready to go. At first she had been reluctant, but finally she had consented. Perhaps she had realized that he needed some time alone to regain his own composure.

Was he any good at all to anyone? His own people were destroyed at his hand. The people he took with him on travels were rarely better off. Rose was banished to another universe, Martha had been unable to stomach traveling any longer, Donna didn’t even know who he was anymore, Rory no longer existed, and Amy… What on earth was he going to do about Amy?

He couldn’t take her home, not without a family or a fiancé. He couldn’t continue to travel with her, risking her life and her sanity. He couldn’t drop her off somewhere. What could he do? What should he do? And the bottom line was that he would be so very lonely without her. She reminded him so much of his daughters – his granddaughters – that he was drawn to her. He smiled as Susan's image floated through his mind. Amy had that same beautiful spirit, and the same sense of adventure. She also had the ginger hair, just as oldest daughter had. And when had he started thinking about them? They were centuries gone, and it did no good to dredge up the painful memories. Carefully, he shoved the images back down where they belonged, into the dark pit of his soul where they could not be analyzed.

With any luck, Amy would be a couple of hours in her shopping spree. He needed the time to get himself back in control and decide what he was going to do. Would he keep her with him, compromising her safety? Would it be better to take her home to an aunt who barely knew her and a job of kissing strangers? Somehow, he couldn’t justify doing either.

But in the end, he really had no choice. He must take her home. As much as he would miss her, and as much as a part of him needed her, he could not continue to risk her life. In the past, he could think of only one companion he had been this close to who had not been hurt by him, and even then she had carried scars. Sarah Jane had been just as much an adventurous spirit as he, and when he had left her she had been hurt. He knew she had, because she had told him as much. She had wondered what she had done wrong, and she had waited for his return. She had thought he had died – must have done – because he had never come back for her. Only decades later had he realized how much he had hurt her, and had begun to make amends.

Rose had lost her universe, Donna had lost her memory, and Martha had lost her nerve. And Sarah Jane – his precious Sarah Jane - had finally lost her life. Oh, it hadn't been his fault. It had been despite him, rather than because of him. It was ironic, really, that the one companion he had decided to stay in contact with had passed away.

Sarah Jane and he had run into each other time and again, and he had finally realized that they were tied together. Whether it was the extensive time they had spent in the TARDIS or just a fluke of life, Sarah Jane had kept finding her way into his life. Eventually he had stopped fighting it, returning many times to visit with a dear friend and valued companion. No, they hadn't traveled any longer – she was busy being a mother by then – but he had once more enjoyed her company.

On the last visit, he had been greeted by the sad, empty eyes of her son. Luke had told him that after all the years, the battles, the challenges, and the near-death experiences, Sarah Jane – his Sarah Jane – had been defeated by something as mundane as cancer. He had thought of going back in time, changing things, and spiriting her away to a future hospital where cancer was no more than a momentary inconvenience. He had thought of returning her life to her, her vivacious spirit, her wonderful son. But Luke was adjusting, and he had been so grateful that his mother's passing had been mercifully quick. She had been sick, and then she had been gone. She had shown no signs of the illness until it had been so far advanced that her battle had been over. She had not suffered.

If he had prolonged her life through futuristic medicine, he might have extended it... but to what end? There was no cure for aging, and the human body was so very fragile. She would still have died – he would still have lost her – but to a lingering and terrible death. She would have become weaker, frailer, and would likely have lost her mind before the end. It was what humans did. He simply didn't have the heart to put her through that. As much as he wanted a chance to say goodbye, and as much as he wanted one more time to thank her for all she had done – things she would never know or understand – he simply couldn't put her through the torture of a long and lingering death.

So that brought him back to Amy. He had done enough damage in her life, he decided. He had hurt her enough. He had taken enough away for his selfish purposes of companionship and youthful enthusiasm. He needed to let her go. He would let her go. When she returned from the stores, he would take her straight home. It hurt, and it made him feel hollow, but it was the best he could do for her. With that decision made, he felt a shadow of relief within the pain. It was done. He would take her home.

“Hello, Sweetie.”

He jerked around at the voice, both shocked and yet strangely unsurprised at seeing River with a sultry smile on her face. She stood there in a stylish pair of boots, close-fitting trousers of a very soft looking material, and a jumper that plunged down low enough to give him a very fine view of… That line of thought didn’t bear dwelling on.

“River Song,” he mused softly. “Why am I not surprised?” He shook his head at her, at a loss as to what to say. “To what do I owe this honor?” he asked.

She widened the smile and stepped forward to kiss him on the cheek. “I happen to know you can use a friend right about now,” she told him gently. “So I’ve come to take you to lunch.”

“Lunch,” he said, smiling himself.

“Lunch,” she agreed. “And some time to talk, because you are about to make the biggest mistake of your very long life.”

He shook his head again, but he let her take his arm and turn him towards the walkway. They headed towards the city proper, with its stores and restaurants. At first they walked in companionable silence, but it wasn't long before he needed answers. She was always a mystery to him, but her showing up now was positively strange. He wasn't sure he was in the mood for strange.

“What mistake am I going to make?” he asked resignedly. It seemed easier to get the conversation over with than to put it off.

“Well, to begin with you're going to choose the crisps, and they will be entirely too greasy. You'll have a miserable case of indigestion. Really, you should consider the chips.”

“I don't really like chips,” he informed her. “Not anymore.”

“They remind you of Rose,” she said softly. “But if you want the indigestion, it's up to you. I've warned you.”

“You didn't come across time and space to tell me what to have for lunch, did you?” he asked, irritated that she knew things she simply shouldn't know, things he hadn't even put words to for himself.

“Well, no,” she admitted.

“So get on with it.”

“I want lunch,” she reminded him.

“No quiz on when this is for me?”

“I know when it is,” she said with a wink. “That's why I'm here.”

“What about you?” he asked.

“The future,” she said simply. “Relatively distant.”

“And you need to tell me...?” he prompted.

“Straight to business,” she mumbled. “Absolutely no foreplay. Thank heavens you'll get over that.”

He felt his ears turn red as his face flushed. How did she always make him feel like a child? He had learned that the innuendo was simply a part of her personality, and he believed that it was likely a shield of sorts to protect what she was truly feeling. Still, she had a way of getting under his skin.

He ordered a sandwich with crisps – he really didn't like chips, and they did remind him of Rose – and paid for his order and hers. They took a seat on the patio of the small bistro. River had ordered a hamburger that was piled high with chili and cheese, which also covered the chips on her plate.

“You're really going to eat that?”

She gave him a grin and lifted the enormous sandwich for her first bite. Her eyes closed in apparent ecstasy as she chewed, and he had to smile a little.

“Are you in prison or out?” he asked her.

“In,” she relied once she had swallowed. “And this is absolutely amazing. Do you want half?”

He shook his head and took a bite of his own, significantly smaller sandwich. Simple ham and cheese, with a pile of crisps beside it. The sandwich was good, but she was right about the crisps... to greasy by half.

He waited until she was half way through her sandwich before he tried again. “Why are you here, River?” he asked. “And don't try to tell me it has anything to do with my digestion.”

She put her sandwich down and met his gaze. “You're about to take Amy home. You can't.” Her voice was certain, and he really resented the fact that she seemed able to read his mind.

“And you know this because...?”

“There are few times you interfere with your own history,” she said briskly. “It's a dangerous path, and you know better. But once – today – you made a very bad choice. You got it in your head that you needed to protect Amy, and that it was your responsibility to return her home. Thankfully, I came to your rescue and convinced you that it was the wrong thing to do – that you need her with you – and you were saved from the worst decision of your life. That's why I'm here,” she concluded. “You sent me to keep this from happening. Amy must stay with you.”  
“I wouldn't do that,” he reasoned.

“You did do that,” she corrected.

“So what happens if I take her home?”

River shook her head. “Unknown,” she admitted. “Because you keep her with you. Looking back, I can postulate that leaving her would have destroyed her. She needs you now just as much as you need her. She is an important part of your future, and you hers.”

“I can't keep her safe,” he argued.

River closed her eyes. “I can't make any promises if she stays with you, but I can promise that leaving her is the wrong decision. Doctor, things will never be right if you leave her. She will be lost, and alone, and just wrong. This is the wrong decision.”

“You don't understand the details,” he told her, putting his sandwich down and shoving the plate away. He was feeling slightly sick, and thought it might be more than the crisps.

“I understand that you feel responsible for Rory,” she told him.

His gaze jerked up, and for the first time he was honestly shocked. He expected almost anything from River, but knowledge of what did not exist wasn't in the realm of possibility. “What do you know of Rory,” he asked in a raspy voice.

“I know that nothing is lost if it is remembered,” she said softly. “Anything more I say will be spoilers.”

“Damned the spoilers!” he yelled. “What do you know?”

“Calm down,” she advised him.

“He doesn't exist,” he said softly. “How can you...”

“I travel in time and space,” she explained. “Just like you. We think differently.”

“But, you don't know...”

“Spoilers.”

“Don't give me that,” he ground out, his voice rising in both pitch and volume. “Tell me what you know!”

“I can't,” she said, her voice as soft as his was loud. She glanced pointedly at the other diners who were looking at them with varying degrees of interest. “You know I can't. I'm so sorry, my love, but you know how dangerous this is. You sent me back in your time-stream because I had already come to you in your time-stream. This moment is fixed. The choices you make from here on out are not. You made the right choice because I came, but the moment itself is pivotal. If you make the wrong choice, I will cease to come and this time will not be.”

He looked at her in frustration. She was right. He knew she was right, and that she could tell him no more than what she had told him... it was a loop of sorts. He would send her so that she would tell him what to do so he could send her. And if he had done this, had taken this risk, then the situation must have been worth it. Leaving Amy must have irreparable consequences. And yet those consequences did not exist, because he had sent River, and she had pointed him towards the correct choice.

He took a deep breath, finally calming himself. “When time-travel gives me a headache, it's beyond complicated,” he muttered.

“Oh, Sweetie,” she said softly. “You have no idea how complicated our lives will be.”

“And you're not going to tell me,” he realized resignedly.

“I...”

“Can't,” they finished together.

“I truly am sorry,” she told him, and her face was sincere.

“Tell me it's worth it,” he asked of her. “The pain and the loss and the... Tell me there is some good, because I'm having a hard time finding it.”

“Oh, yes,” she said with a smile. “You have so much to look forward to. There is good and bad, and most things in between. You will love and lose, and fight and flee... It's all out there for you.”

He reached across the table and took her hand in his. “And us,” he asked. “Tell me we're worth it.”

She smiled more broadly, with a wicked gleam behind the sparkle in her eye. “Worth everything and more,” she assured him. “You just watch us run.”

He felt a stabbing pain in his chest as he heard her words. He had heard them before, on the day he had lost her... would lose her. Even then she had said it was worth it.

“Time can be rewritten!”

“Not those times. Not one line. Don't you dare! It's okay. It's not over for you. You'll see me again. You've got all of that to come. You and me, time and space. You watch us run!”

He didn't realize that a tear had escaped until he felt her fingers brush his cheek. “I didn't mean to make you sad,” she told him.

He took her hand in his, turning it to kiss the palm, completely shaken. He wasn't one for emotional displays – at least not this kind of emotion. Anger he was comfortable with, and childlike glee as well. But tenderness... tenderness was a feeling he still struggled with. He had felt it for many companions after years spent in their company. He had felt it for Amy almost from the first moment he saw her, just as he had for Rose. Why he felt it for River, when he really knew so little about her, was still giving him trouble.

His thoughts were interrupted by Amy's upbeat voice as she walked down the sidewalk towards them. “I thought we were meeting back at the... vehicle,” she told him with a suspicious look on her face.

“We would have done, but now you're here,” he said brightly, pulling himself out of his own thoughts and gesturing to River. The older woman turned around and faced Amy with a smile as he gestured to her. “You remember River?” he asked.

Amy looked taken aback for a moment, and then she returned River's smile. “Of course,” she said. “The missus,” Amy remarked, giving River a wink.

The Doctor gave a cough just as River gave a laugh. “I see you're keeping him in line,” she said as she stood and pulled Amy into an embrace that was returned willingly. The two of them separated after a moment and just looked at one another in some sort of accord. The doctor was not entirely comfortable with the exchange.

“We ran into one another and decided to have lunch,” he told Amy. “Would you care to join us?”

She reached down and snagged a crisp from his plate, then grimaced. “Greasy,” she complained. “I'll skip it this time. Shall I meet you back at the TARDIS?” she asked.

“Why don't you walk back together,” River suggested as she stood and checked her wrist. He almost said something as he glimpsed the vortex manipulator, but decided against it. He wasn't sure he wanted River and Amy together, although he couldn't say why.

“You don't have to go,” Amy said quickly. “I wouldn't have interrupted if...”

“You're not interrupting,” River assured her. “We were just finishing up. Weren't we, Doctor?”

He looked at her for a long moment, remembering the touch of her fingers on his cheek, the pain of watching her give his life for his, and knowing that too many points in history were fixed. He was reluctant to leave her. Admitting it – to himself if no one else – he enjoyed her company. But as she had told him, they would meet again.

He stood, and stepped towards River to give her a gentle kiss on the cheek. “Thank you for the message,” he said softly.

“Anything, Sweetie,” she replied, but there was no sarcasm in the endearment. It was just that: a term of affection, or even love. “Until next time.” Turning to Amy, she flashed a grin and a wink. “Keep him on a short leash,” she advised. “He's trouble, this one.”

“I know,” Amy answered. “Will I see you again?”

“Count on it,” River replied, and then she gave a last smile before she turned to walk away. They watched as she strode down the sidewalk to the nearest turn, then stepped out of their line of sight. A slight flash of light – almost too little for them to see against the bright daylight – and they knew she was gone.

“I like her,” Amy said. “I mean, I really like her. She's... good for you.”

The Doctor gave her a mock glare. “How do you mean?” he asked as he slung one arm over her shoulders and steered her towards where they had left the TARDIS.

“She... seems like an equal,” Amy explained. “Mostly, you treat everyone like they're children. It's annoying, but I understand it. You know so much more than we do, and you've lived so much longer. But with River you're different. You treat her like she knows what you do.”

“No one knows what I do,” he told her flippantly. Then, with more consideration, “I don't think anyone would want to.”

“She's good for you,” Amy reiterated. “You need a challenge.”

“She is that,” he muttered.

Amy giggled as she shifted bags on her arms. He reached over and took a couple of them, leaving her with a few others to carry. “How many outfits did you buy?” He asked.

“Enough,” she admitted. “All of Paris before me, and unlimited credit. A girl doesn't get to shop like that often.”

“I'm glad you had a good time,” he said honestly.

“It would have been more fun to go with River, I think,” Amy mused. “I bet she's a great shopper.”

“I bet she is,” he agreed. They walked along in silence for a few moments before he bumped Amy's hip with his own. “So, where do you want to go next?” he asked.

“Surprise me,” she requested.

The Doctor smiled and started thinking. He planned to do just as she asked.


End file.
